


Being Okay

by elenajames



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Dom Claude Giroux, Dom Jamie Benn, Dom/sub, First Time, Kneeling, M/M, Multi, Open Relationships, Sub Tyler Seguin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 11:42:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9547616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/elenajames
Summary: Tyler thinks he's a good sub. He does. He just has to remember that not every Dom is like the ones he played with in Boston.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Contains handwavy negative feelings about the Boston Bruins. Totally self-indulgent fic. Vaguely set during WCOH 2015.

Tyler likes to think he’s a good guy, a good sub. Sure, maybe he let a little too loose in Boston - hell, the team certainly thought so - but overall, not bad. It always bothers him, then, when guys seem wary of him, like they’re waiting for him to do something wild or stupid. And, in the short handful of hours they’ve been around each other, Claude hasn’t done any of those things, just giving Tyler a smile, like he does the rest of the teammates he’s only sort’ve familiar with. 

 

Problem is, Tyler’s almost anxious when they’re alone, unsure of what to expect from Claude; by all accounts, he’s a pretty good guy, mostly quiet and a good captain, but instinctual fear niggles at the back of Tyler’s mind, ingrained from the nights in Boston that didn’t go so well.

 

They make it through the first few days, the whirlwind of media and first practices, with the normal awkwardness of a couple of guys who only sort’ve know each other. It’s when they’re in for the night, too early for sleep but too late to go out if they’re going to get enough rest for the game the next day that things really get tense. 

 

“Hey, ah, Tyler? You good?” Claude finally asks. They had picked out a movie, neither of them much caring what was on as long as there was noise. Tyler’d spent the last half hour trying not to shift around too much, hoping to keep Claude’s focus away from him and on the movie. 

 

“Yeah, man. Totally good,” he tries, unconvincing enough that Tyler winces at his own words. He tries not to fidget as Claude looks at him, the weight of the other man’s gaze heavy on his shoulders. 

 

“Do you need to call Benn? I can-” Claude waves his hand vaguely at the door, words drifting off as Tyler turns red and drops his head, shame burning in his throat. “Sorry, I don’t mean to assume, but this can be pretty stressful and I know when it was me and Danny it - we both needed it.” 

 

It’s a minute or so before Tyler speaks again, swallowing hard and picking up his head, fighting just to meet Claude’s eyes. “No. I’m good.” 

 

“Okay,” Claude says softly. They go to bed like that, tension still heavy around them. 

 

* * *

 

Tyler finds time the morning before the game to call Jamie; regardless of what he said to Claude, he can feel the itch building under his skin, one that eases the moment Jamie says “Hello?” 

 

“Jamie. Hey,” Tyler breathes, aware of just how relieved he sounds to hear his Dom’s voice. 

 

“Tyler. What’s wrong?” 

 

“Nothing just - everything’s a lot, you know? And Claude . . .” 

 

“What about Claude?” Jamie says, more sharply than Tyler anticipated. “Tyler? What about Claude?” 

 

“Nothing. He hasn’t done anything he just . . . It’s stupid.” 

 

“Ty. He makes you nervous. That’s okay, babe. You just have to remember what we talked about, right?” 

 

Closing his eyes, Tyler tucks himself tighter against the wall of the bathroom. “Not everyone is like Boston.” 

 

“Good. That’s right,” Jamie soothes. “You want to tell me about the tournament?” 

 

Tyler laughs, dry and stiff. “Not much to tell, yet. Media and practice. Same old, same old, except I speak less of the language than usual.” 

 

“Ty, are you alone?” There. The edge in Jamie’s voice makes Tyler shiver. 

 

“Yeah. Claude’s out. Went to see teammates or something.” 

 

“Why don’t you kneel for me, hm? On the floor, put your forehead on the bed, close your eyes.” 

 

“Yeah,” Tyler breathes, dropping down. It feels good, like all of his tension and worry bleeds out when his knees hit the carpet and his eyes drift shut. Jamie praises and soothes, eventually settling into talking about his day to day now that Tyler’s in Prague, silly little nothings that keep his voice washing over the sub. 

 

“Ty?” 

 

“Mm.”

 

“Time to get up now, okay? Take it easy. Take a shower for me, get something to eat and drink.” 

 

“‘Kay. Love you.” 

 

“Yeah, Ty. I love you, too.” 

 

A pleasant haze hangs over Tyler as he strips and climbs into the shower, scrubbing himself absently. He sips at a bottle of water as he redresses, dutifully taking it down between bites of some kind of power bar that he and Claude had picked up on a brief jaunt out into the city. Claude returning makes Tyler a little anxious, but it’s easy to breathe it away with the ghost of Jamie’s voice still in his head. 

 

* * *

 

They talk about it later. About how maybe Tyler  _ wants _ to kneel for Claude, and how maybe Jamie doesn’t have a problem with that. Soft and sweet, Tyler asks Claude for permission to give Jamie his number, and it’s clear Claude understands just why Tyler’s asking. 

 

The next time they’re out, Claude carefully lays his arm across the back of Tyler’s chair, rubbing at his shoulder when Tyler leans into the touch. It feels possessive, but gently, quietly so and Tyler likes it just as much from Claude as he does from Jamie.

 

* * *

 

Winning in Prague feels good, feels  _ great  _ with the elation of his countrymen buoying him up higher. Claude’s dick feels just as good, so fucking thick that Tyler aches with it as he tries to take it all in. Dropping his face to Claude’s neck, Tyler clings to his shoulders and just works on breathing as he rolls his hips. Claude strokes his sides, down to his thighs and back up. 

 

“You don’t have to,” he whispers hoarsely. “Don’t take it all if it hurts.” 

 

“Does-doesn’t hurt. It’s just a lot.” Tyler whimpers, trying to muffle it against Claude’s throat as he sinks down just a little further. Jamie’s longer than he is thick, and Claude is  _ so _ fucking wide. All Tyler can do is shiver when his ass finally meets the top of strong thighs, concentrating on keeping his breaths even. 

 

A lone finger dips between his cheeks rubbing over the taut skin there, pressing against where he’s stretched around Claude. “Shit, Segs.” There’s a click of a cap, and Claude’s nudging him up, spreading more lube around Tyler’s hole and Claude’s own dick before letting him sink back down. 

 

Claude holds Tyler close, keeping his thrusts shallow, almost teasing but just enough to make Tyler quiver. 

 

“God, Claude, please can I-” 

 

“Shh,” Claude murmurs against his cheek. “Just like this, Tyler. You can do it.” Claude drops a hand to stroke his cock in the same, slow pace that he’s fucking Tyler. 

 

It builds slow and makes Tyler shake, makes him cling to Claude’s shoulders and hide his face as tears well up and spill over. He gasps wetly against Claude’s neck, trying not to flat out sob because he doesn’t want Claude to  _ stop. _

 

“Okay?” 

 

“Yeah, yeahyeah, please?” But Claude doesn’t speed up at all, and Tyler is sobbing when he finally comes. Claude pulls out, finishing himself over Tyler’s thighs and softening dick. 

 

Tyler slumps into Claude’s arms, closing his eyes. He can feel as Claude shifts, the soft tapping of his fingers on a cell and a calloused hand slides over his bare back. The phone chimes moments later, but Tyler’s not curious enough to ask right now. 

 

“Do you want to lay down?” 

 

“Yeah,” Tyler hiccups. Claude shuffles them around, stripping off the now-dirty coverlet and tucking them beneath the rest of the bedding, wrapping Tyler up in his arms. They stay like that for long enough for Tyler to calm and drift back to himself. “Jeez dude,” he huffs after a while. 

 

“You’re alright, yeah?” 

 

“Yeah. That was . . . awesome, G. I was good, right?” Tyler ducks his head, as soon as he asks, but Claude just presses a kiss to his forehead. 

 

“So good,” Claude reassures him. He plucks the phone from the bed, tucking it into Tyler’s palm. “Jamie agrees.” 

 

Tyler visibly melts a little, scrolling through the pictures of them that Claude sent, and the responses that Jamie sent back. He types out a message of his own as Claude watches, and a smile quirks his lips when the phone pings just moments later. 

 

“He’s good to you, eh?” A blush flares across Tyler’s cheeks, and Claude laughs softly. “That’s good. You deserve it.” 

 

“Thanks, G.” 


End file.
